


hold tight sweetheart

by AugustaByron



Series: pretty reckless, pretty wild [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coda, Fluff, M/M, being in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22778485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustaByron/pseuds/AugustaByron
Summary: Kent is going to start a fight on the lawn, like he always does in company situations, and then Alexei is going to dump him.Parse and Tater are in love, and throw a birthday bash, and start the rest of their lives together. Maybe. If they can get through today first.
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson
Series: pretty reckless, pretty wild [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1009641
Comments: 30
Kudos: 420





	hold tight sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, this is unrepentant fluff because life is stressful and sometimes you read about the canon ending of your fave and have a visceral reaction against it. Welcome to zero sex and many squishy feelings. 
> 
> As always, let me know if there's something I should warn for. 
> 
> Title from "Rainbow" by Kesha.

Today is clearly going to be a disaster. Kent can feel it in his bones. He stands by Alexei's kitchen window at six in the morning, drinking his coffee, seething at the chirping birds outside. Why the hell are they so loud?

When Alexei emerges for the day, yawning, he must be able to smell Kent's emotions or something. He slouches over and loops his long arms around Kent's shoulders and chest, nestles behind him. He hums down, still obviously sleepy, “Going to be fine, Parse.”

“I know,” Kent hisses. It's just his boyfriend's birthday, which they're celebrating by throwing a party for the Providence Falconers and all their significant others, what could go wrong? Except, oh, every goddamn thing.

Look, Kent and Alexei have been very comfortably ignoring the Zimmermann situation so far. Kent has been staying here, in Alexei's house in goddamn Providence, since the Aces got knocked out of the playoffs. It's been two months. And somehow, Jack has not come up as a topic of conversation. This is working. Why are they rocking the boat?

Kent is going to start a fight on the lawn, like he always does in company situations, and then Alexei is going to dump him. He can sense this. It will happen. And then all his big plans for tonight will be ruined.

“Relax,” Alexei says. He leans down and kisses the top of Kent's head, where his hair parts. Tall asshole. “You puffing up like the cat.”

“Excuse the fuck out of you,” Kent says, not sure what he's most offended by in that sentence. He doesn't get a chance to get worked up, though, because Alexei kisses him to cut him off.

And wait, shit.

“Hey,” Kent says when Alexei pulls away. “Happy birthday. Love you.”

Alexei smiles down at him. Kent is probably too manly to feel his heart beat faster.

“Love you,” Alexei says, and steals Kent's coffee.

Asshole.

Alexei is no idiot, so he hired people to deliver food and set it all up on these big long tables outside, also rented. Kent is on board with this because he would really like to delay calling the fire department for as long as possible, which would not be possible if he and Alexei tried to feed more than themselves. Kit hides because of all the interlopers, but that's fine.

Outsourcing means they're done with the official party prep way before people are set to show up. It's nice as hell outside, so they go chill in the yard with a couple of beers. Alexei goes into the garage and comes back with a huge box.

“I bought cornhole,” Alexei says triumphantly, and then makes Kent set up the boards and parcel out the beanbags, 'because it's his birthday.'

They play a round to practice, and Kent smokes him. Alexei is a sore loser like always, tries to make out with Kent before he throws his final bag so they don't finish.

“Sucks to suck, Mashkov,” Kent laughs, letting his bag fall to the ground. Alexei threads a giant hand into Kent's hair, yanks his head to the side so he can lick Kent's ear. Kent shudders, asks, “What the hell is this, the penalty kill?”

“Brat,” Alexei growls against his neck. And hello, that is blast from the past that Kent could spend some time exploring. He grabs Alexei's ass, since it's right there.

“Oh my god, boys, keep it in your pants. There are children present,” someone yells.

Great. A promising start. Kent looks over at the three people—two Falconers, one woman—who just came through the back gate. “What children?”

“I was talking about Poots.” Snowy has brought a pink pinata for some reason. It's tucked under his arm ominously. Kent is pretty sure it's a unicorn. “Think of his young, innocent eyes. Happy birthday, Tater. Stop mauling the competition.”

“Offseason rules, Snowy,” Alexei calls back lazily. He kisses Kent one more time, a real Disney prince kind of peck. Probably just to prove he's not letting Snowy win.

Kent's down with that. He doesn't think there's anyone else who's ever kissed him the way Alexei does. Well, no. He knows for fucking sure there's not.

“Stop mauling Parson,” Snow says, correcting himself. Kent flashes him a thumbs up. This whole inter-team dating thing is going swell.

“Do any of you want to give me an actual challenge?” Kent asks, and gestures at cornhole. Alexei makes an offended noise. Whatever, he lost so bad. Kent's not going to pretend just because it's his birthday.

“Move out of the way, boys.” The woman—Snow's wife, Kent recognizes her now, what's her name?—sweeps out her arm, like she's pushing Snowy and Poots aside. “I'm gonna make Vegas eat his words.”

Kent ends up hanging with the WAGs, which he maybe should have expected. Shit, is he a WAG? A—what the fuck did Jeff start calling it an effort to be more p.c.? The spouses and partners, SAPs. It didn't catch on in the Aces locker room, but Jeff keeps on pushing that envelope, god love 'im. Best You Can Play rep in the league.

What Kent means is he's probably a WAG now, which is cool. The Falconers wives are a hard-drinking bunch with incredibly mean chirps and Kent fucking loves them. Maybe because Angie, Snow's wife, keeps making him some kind of mixed drink that tastes like mint and hits like a sledgehammer. They've all taken over the good lawn chairs next to the pool.

“What'd you get Tater for his birthday?” Gabby asks. “Please do not say your dick.”

“A fleshlight,” Kent says. Gabby slaps him upside the head, and Kent laughs so hard his stomach hurts. Eventually he manages to say, “It's a surprise, I haven't given it to him yet. He's the fucking worst to buy for, he's always like 'oh I don't want anything' and it sucks.”

“Men,” Angie says. “Am I right?”

And listen, maybe Kent was wrong, earlier. The party's going great. Someone threw Alexei in the pool earlier and he hasn't changed yet, so Kent gets to keep looking over at how his shirt's all see-through and clingy. Why the fuck was Kent nervous for this again?

“Fuck yes,” Guy's girlfriend says. “Pie has arrived.”

Ah, shit.

Kent stops drinking Angie's cocktails and starts guzzling water, because he has learned one or two things since he was seventeen, thank you very fucking much. Substances plus Kent plus Zimms do not a happy occasion make.

Alexei is standing over next to one of the five beer coolers with Bittle and Zimms. He's grinning and waving his arms around. What the fuck could they be talking about?

Whatever. Kent is staying clear.

Alexei finally comes over when Kent's parked by the snack table, eating all the veggies and dip. Who the hell did they get to cater this thing? Kent wants to buy a vat of this dip. It's the bomb.

“Okay?” Alexei asks, quiet.

“Why wouldn't I be?” Kent says. Alexei just looks at him. Kent shrugs. “C'mon, man, I'm being good. Staying out of the way.”

“Not in the way,” Alexei says. “This is your home, Parse.”

“I mean, kinda,” Kent says. For the summer. They're trying this whole Providence thing instead of L.A. But Kent doesn't know if he'd say it's their home, exactly.

He thinks he maybe wants to buy a new place, together. One with better light.

“Yes.” Alexei is using his firm voice this time. “Know how I said I didn't want anything for birthday?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Kent groans. “Tell me you're not going to ask for me and Zimms to kiss and make up.”

The thing is. They've done a lot of talking about Jack in the last couple years. Since Kent admitted that maybe, just maybe, it fucked him up a little bit to have someone he loved, who said he loved Kent, keep trying to die. To be there the day he got pretty damn close. Plus Alexei and Jeff joined forces on the therapist thing, so Kent's done some serious processing.

It's not like it was. Kent doesn't get weird about bathrooms anymore. Not much, at least. But he hasn't actually talked to Jack at all. Not in years. Which has actually taken some doing, since Jack is basically Alexei's best friend.

Alexei frowns at him, comically mad, wags a finger. “Better not be any kissing. But maybe talk?”

“This is what you want for your birthday,” Kent confirms. “Instead of the weird sex stuff I had planned for after everyone leaves? You want me to talk to Zimms.”

“Maybe both,” Alexei says. “Talk and weird stuff. How weird?”

“Wouldn't you like to fucking know,” Kent says. “Okay, fuck it. Send him over.”

Alexei troops off, back to Zimms and Bittle. Kent keeps eating. Seriously, what the fuck did the caterers put in this dip? Kent's never liked carrots this much before.

Finally, Jack ambles over. He comes to a stop next to Kent, stares down at the bell pepper slices like they hold the secret to life.

Great. Very natural, very subtle.

“Hey,” Jack says. He's shifting his weight back and forth, clearly uncomfortable with the way that Bittle and Alexei are staring at them from over by the coolers. God, Kent wishes for Zimms' sake that he'd never gotten hot. Jack hates attention, wouldn't the whole thing have been easier if he didn't look like a male model? Less media focus?

“Hey,” Kent says back.

Zimms takes a deep breath. Kent finishes his carrot stick.

“I'm sorry,” Jack says. Kent blinks a couple of times. Say what?

Oh. Hey.

“I'm sorry, too,” Kent says. He punches Zimms on the shoulder. Zimms punches him back, and then they're both grinning.

“That's _it_?” Bittle groans in despair, loud enough to be heard clear across the yard.

“He's really bad at pretending not to eavesdrop,” Kent says. He probably deserves the headlock that Jack puts him in after that.

In the end, Zimms and Kent lose half the beanbags for cornhole because they're trying to see who can throw farther. Kent wins. He's pretty sure he wins, it got harder to tell when all the bags ended up in the neighbor's yard. But other than that, the party is fight-free.

Kent's proud of himself. He's going to call Jeff and tell him all about it.

After everyone leaves, Alexei makes them go around the backyard and pick up all the beer cans everywhere, and the trash and stuff. God, he's boring. It's his birthday. How can he be thinking about cleaning up when they haven't even had sex yet today? Kent wants to lodge a complaint.

“Only get recyclables for that one,” Alexei reminds Kent for the ninth time. “Want to give that bag to Cub Scouts when they come and ask.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Kent loves him.

“Hey,” Kent says. He sets his garbage bag full of cans down. It clanks. Alexei looks over, raises his eyebrows.

“Not getting out of cleaning up,” Alexei says. “Not even in that shirt.”

Huh? What—it's just blue. Kent looks down at himself, confused, and then shakes it off. Focus. Goal.

“Do you want to maybe, like, put down the trash?” Kent asks. His palms are sweaty.

Now or never. Or like, tomorrow.

But nah. Now.

“Is this too sexy for you?” Alexei laughs. He strikes a pose, flexes, trash bag still dangling from one hand. What a fucking nerd. “Overcome? Need to drag me inside to—”

Fuck it. Kent reaches into his pocket and pulls out the box, flicks it open. Alexei freezes.

“You want to maybe get married?” Kent asks.

“Still holding the trash,” Alexei says, strangled.

God, Kent's going to make fun of him for a long time about _that_ being the first thing he said. As long as the next thing he says is—

“Yes,” Alexei says. He drops the trash, crosses the yard to Kent in three long strides. “What the fuck, Parse, you never can keep a secret. How long—?”

Kent's heart is beating fast again. Last summer. The first time that Alexei kissed him. Forever. “Since your mom started texting me about baby names. You want to maybe put the ring on?”

Alexei takes the box, slides the ring on. He stares at it with a dumb look on his face. Like he's shocked. “How'd you get size?”

“Stole your Cup ring,” Kent admits. “You've got really lousy security, dude. Bad combination on that safe. Are you going to kiss me or what?”

And yeah. Alexei kisses him.

“Weird sex stuff was smokescreen?” Alexei asks a minute later, sounding a little disappointed.

“Well,” Kent says. There's definitely a new pair of handcuffs in the bedroom. “Maybe. Guess you'll have to find out.”

“Inside,” Alexei asks, plaintive. “Now? Please? It's my birthday.”

So basically, Kent nailed this proposal thing. And he's got high hopes for the rest of their lives, too.


End file.
